Struck By The Texas Matchmakers

“Oh, I should’ve thought of that,” Diane exclaimed. “Come on, I’ll—”

“Sis!” Paul protested.

“What?” she asked, staring at him.

“As efficient as you are, Diane, I think Paul can manage on his own,” Jeff said quietly.

“I’m his sister!” she snapped. “I’m afraid he’ll pass out.”

“Di, please,” Paul begged.

“Oh, all right!” she said with a huff.

“Gabe put some of your things in my car,” Jeff added. “Go ahead to the bathroom while I run get them. I’ll find you some clean underwear and a T-shirt to wear to bed.”

Paul nodded, stealing a look at his sister.

Jeff looked, too, knowing Paul’s reluctance to let his sister help him had upset Diane.

She stared at both of them, her expression grim. Then she bent over to finish tugging the blanket into place.

“Where’s the bath?” Paul asked over his shoulder.

“Next door to the right,” Jeff said. Then he hurried downstairs.

When Paul was in bed, having swallowed the pain pill with no argument, Jeff and Diane left his room.

“If you’ll show me where the rest of the linen is, I’ll make my bed,” she said.

“I’ll help,” Jeff insisted. He could see the lines of weariness in her pale face.

“No! I don’t need you to take care of me. It’s enough that you’ve taken us in and doctored Paul.”

He recognized her stubborn pride and gave in to its demand. Opening the hall closet, he took out the sheets and a blanket and then escorted her to his third bedroom. It was smaller and had a full-size bed, a dresser and one bedside table. A bare room.

“Sorry it’s not very—” He shrugged his shoulders, unable to come up with a word to describe the room.

“I’ll be fine. Thank you.”

“If you need anything, let me know.”

“I won’t need anything.”

She shut the door, managing a small smile before it closed completely.

He stood there, thinking about Diane Peters. She appeared to be a woman in control, like his wife. Only Jeff’s wife had given all her time to her work, leaving little time or attention for their marriage. Is that how Diane would be—if she ever married?

He spun on his heel and strode to his bedroom. He needed to put Diane Peters out of his head. Her tired hazel eyes, her sagging shoulders, her mussed dress that so faithfully followed her trim figure, the blond hair that added to her beauty drew Jeff, but she was going to be a career woman.

The last thing he needed.

JEFF WASN’T SURPRISED when he awoke later than usual around eight the next morning—he’d gotten up several times to check on Paul. What awakened him, however, was a surprise. The scent of fresh coffee and crisp bacon wafted up the stairs. Half awake, he imagined a picture-perfect breakfast scene, a lovely blonde standing by the stove, a dainty white apron tied around her waist. The table was set, a small vase of flowers in the center, orange juice at every plate.

In his half dream, the woman turned around and he was staring at Diane Peters. Immediately, he came fully awake, lunging upright, his eyes popping open. What was he thinking?

Chapter Four

“Good morning,” Diane said, seeing Jeff enter the kitchen. He looked a bit startled at finding her in front of the stove. “I hope you don’t mind that I started breakfast. I was hungry and I expect Paul to be up soon.”

“Of course not,” he muttered, not quite looking her in the eye.

“If you want to sit down, I can pour you a cup of coffee. The eggs will be ready in a minute.”

“I can pour the coffee for both of us,” he said, reaching for the cabinet that held the mugs. “And I’m delighted you started breakfast. I haven’t had such a nice treat in years.”

Diane brought the plate of scrambled eggs to the table and sat down. Jeff’s statement that he hadn’t had breakfast prepared for him in years had startled her.

Around their house, no one left without some sort of morning meal. After eighteen years of a good breakfast, Diane had continued to eat breakfast through her college years. A good thing, too, since she put in long days.

Jeff seemed to be enjoying his food. He looked up and caught her watching. “I had no idea you could cook. I thought you were a lawyer.”

“I am a lawyer…or will be when I pass the bar. But that doesn’t mean I don’t eat.”

“I eat, too, but it’s usually at a restaurant…or at your sister’s shop. Her sausage rolls are good.”

“Yes, they are.”

A knock on the door startled them. Before Diane could move, Jeff jumped up from his chair. “That’s probably for me. Go ahead and eat.”

She supposed he was used to being on call, but it seemed strange that someone would come to his house rather than use the phone. When Diane turned she saw Katie enter the door, carrying a pan.

“Your sister brought some of those sausage rolls we were just talking about,” Jeff explained, grinning as he followed Katie into the kitchen. “I guess she didn’t know you could cook, either.”

“I thought I’d save you the trouble,” Katie said, bending down to kiss Diane’s cheek. “How’s Paul this morning?”

“He’s still asleep,” Diane said. “He took a pain pill last night.”

“He did? He must’ve really been hurting.” Katie looked at Jeff. “You said it was minor.”

Jeff pulled out a chair for Katie and gestured for her to sit while he poured her a cup of coffee and brought it to the table. Then he resettled in his chair. “A burn is a shock to the body. While he’ll recover, it will take a while. I don’t want him doing much with that arm.”

“Poor Paul. He has a lot of plans for the summer. He needs to stay in shape. Can he exercise?” Katie asked.

Jeff shook his head. “Not at once.”

“So he’ll have to rest a lot?” Diane asked, wondering how he would do that when they didn’t even have a place to live. She started making a mental list of people they might call.

“A few days,” Jeff said.